Questions Without Answers
by princessozmaofoz
Summary: He keeps asking himself the questions, though he's sure he'll never find the answers. Unspoken and/or onesided Hathaway/Innocent. Oneshot.


Author's Note: So this is one of a few pieces that I wrote awhile ago for these two, but I didn't publish publicly as I was still under the impression that I was the only person who shipped them and didn't want to inflict my feelings on uninterested persons. But now that there's been a recent influx of James/Jean, I thought I would share some of the works I've kept hidden for a while. Also, I don't own the characters.

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_Questions Without Answers_

_Why did she have to be so fascinating?_

In some respects, she was the mystery that he was most anxious to solve. Every eye roll, sarcastic retort, lip twitch, chuckle, and shared personal detail uncovered a little bit more of the woman behind the rank, and at the same time took her further and further out of his reach.

_Why did she have to be so frustrating?_

It was always a real struggle to content with her obstinacy, her haughtiness, her obsession with procedure, her inability to see things his way, her determination to always be right. He had to work especially hard as he could to control any anger she might bring out in him. Anger was far too close to passion, and passion was dangerous.

_Why did she have to be so considerate?_

She was often instinctively able to tell when something was wrong with him, and she was second only to Lewis when it came to worming the problem out of him. She'd listen when he needed someone to listen, she'd advise when he needed someone to advise. She'd give him her full attention, her honest opinion, and whatever else she thought he needed. She'd be intuitive, sympathetic, compassionate, kind.

But unfortunately, these strengths were undermined by the fact that her method of comfort so often involved physical contact. Didn't she realize that only made things worse? That a simple hand on his shoulder or arm only made him more anxious? More unstable? More vulnerable?

_Why did she have to be so indifferent?_

She probably had no idea that some of the things she said without thinking had far more of an impact than she'd ever realize. That calling him "impossible," "irritating," "mad," "ridiculous" or "delusional" even in jest made him question whether he really was these things, whether she really saw him that way after all.

And then there was that damned nickname, which filled him with so many complicated, contradictory feelings. Flattered that he was obviously special enough to her to merit a nickname. Giddy at the thought that she found him a "wonder" in any sense of the word. Irritated that "wonder" though he may be, the "boy" implied that she still saw him as a child.

_Why did she have to be so clever?_

It was almost impossible to lie to her. She knew right away when he was trying to pull the wool over her eyes and was better still at figuring out the truth when she knew she was being mislead.

What was more she was very helpful when it came to discussing case theories, often providing insight that he hadn't known or considered. She was also far too witty, too resourceful, too logical, and too sensible for his comfort.

_Why did she have to be so clueless?_

Surely, she'd noticed by now: the way he breathed twice as hard when she showed even a little more cleavage than usual. The fact that he was so often flushed and tense and anxious whenever they were alone together, even for a moment. The times he simply couldn't bear to look at her, because it hurt too much or because he was half-worried that once he did look at her, he wouldn't be able to look away.

And those procedural lectures! Hathaway hesitated to even call them "lectures," because they were really nothing more or less than unintentional _seductions_. Was she even aware that her voice got lower and huskier when she was in disciplinary mode, let alone cognizant of the impact it had on her listener? Did she ever consider that decreasing the amount of personal space between them _was _extremelyintimidating, but not for the reasons she thought? Not because his boss was angry at him, but because an attractive woman was far too close to him than was in either of their best interests?

_Why did she have to monopolize his days?_

He couldn't begin to count the number of times a day she'd pop her head around the door of his inspector's office to check their progress. It was simultaneously far too many times and far too few.

And many times, she'd actually come into the room, bringing with her a floral aroma that he didn't know the name of but could immediately identify as _her_ scent. He'd hear her voice speaking to him, see her eyes scrutinizing him, smell that familiar perfume, try to act as though these facts and her presence had no effect on him whatsoever.

Even on days when their paths didn't cross physically, she was never far from him. Her name would pop up quite frequently in conversation, unsurprising because—despite everything—she was still his boss. Little things would suddenly remind him of her: the colour purple, the word "facetious," a raised eyebrow, a frustrated sigh.

She was everywhere: in his eyes, in his ears, in his nostrils, in his conversation, in his mind, in his heart. She was everywhere, but where he needed her to be. She was everywhere but in his arms.

_Why did she have to haunt his dreams at night?_

And very vivid dreams they were, dreams that made him wonder how he'd ever thought he'd manage a life of celibacy with that sick, sick mind of his. Dreams that shocked him and disgusted him not only because of their content, but because of how much he wanted them to be realities.

For he knew that they would never be real. If nothing else, she was a lady. She had class and morals and self-control and a sense of duty. And that was assuming the thought of him in an other than professional sense had even crossed her mind at all, which it almost certainly hadn't.

There was already a man in her life, in her thoughts, in her heart, in her bed. A man whose name and home and life she shared. A man who one could only hope knew just how damned lucky he was.

_Why did she have to be so beautiful?_

That was the real crux of the problem, regardless of how much he tried to deny it. He might have been able to overlook everything else, if there hadn't been that. If her eyes hadn't been so full of life and character and colour. If her hair and skin didn't look so soft and smooth that he wanted to reach out and stroke them more than anything. If her rare but radiant smile didn't demand to be encored the second it disappeared.

_ Above all, why did James Hathaway have to want Jean Innocent so much, when he knew perfectly well he could never have her?_


End file.
